


Glimpses of Home

by CKBookish



Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce is trying, Clark Kent is a bit angry in this one, Coming home from the hospital, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Clark Kent, UNCLE CLARK, Worried Bruce Wayne, discussions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Clark lay on the sofa letting the sounds of Dick’s breath flood the room.  Clark had spent years honing his skills.  He used to lay awake at night listening to the farm, the way the horses brayed in the night, the way the wind made the walls creak and groan,  the way his father snored every 73 breath.  He was good at listening.He was not good, however, at not worrying.  Dick’s chest still rattled unnaturally and his pain was horribly audible.  Clark hated it,  he also hated he couldn’t stop listening.  So he lay on the coach, his eyes wide open staring at the yellowing ceiling.  He had known Dick for years,  he had seen him sick before and hurt, but this felt so different.  It was different because he wasn’t here.Bruce was at home, and Dick was… Dick was in a crappy rundown part of Bludhaven.  And Clark was laying on his couch.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent
Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752508
Comments: 61
Kudos: 250





	Glimpses of Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marzue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzue/gifts).



> I'm supposed to be working on another gift fic, but this demanded to be written and marzue enabled me. 
> 
> I don't know how actively I'll be posting for a while. There is a lot of stuff going on. 
> 
> Marzue, I hope you have a wonderful day :smeks: and corn.
> 
> As always I love to hear from you all.

I’ve spent an endless night mapping your route

But when the fork comes I can’t ask you to walk my way.

I know I’m but a waylay hold,

but how do I yield, when you’re ready to go?

\--I'm far too fond of migratory birds, holding to seasons that allay glimpses of home.

* * *

Clark lay on the sofa letting the sounds of Dick’s breath flood the room. Clark had spent years honing his skills. He used to lay awake at night listening to the farm, the way the horses brayed in the night, the way the wind made the walls creak and groan, the way his father snored every 73 breath. He was good at listening. 

He was not good, however, at not worrying. Dick’s chest still rattled unnaturally and his pain was horribly audible. Clark  _ hated  _ it, he also hated he couldn’t stop listening. So he lay on the coach, his eyes wide open staring at the yellowing ceiling. He had known Dick for years, he had seen him sick before and hurt, but this felt so different. It was different because  _ he  _ wasn’t here.

Bruce was at home, and Dick was… Dick was in a crappy rundown part of Bludhaven. And Clark was laying on his couch. 

Clark had done his best to convince Dick to come to Metropolis. He had gone so far as to try and guilt him into coming home with him and Lois-- something he wasn’t proud of in the least. But no matter how many times Clark pointed out that it would be easier to help if he and Lois didn’t have to run back and forth between the cities, Dick hadn’t budged. 

It had only been the day before he had been released that Dick finally admitted to Clark why.

* * *

Lois stood holding her phone over her head as if that would send her email more efficiently. “So I was telling Jim that I could work from home as long as he didn’t try and hide any good stories from me. But we got the guest room all set for you, and--”

Dick sighed, and shifted slowly so that he was facing her. “I told you, I’m going home.”

Lois blinked, lowering her hand. “Dick, you can’t even get to the toilet by yourself. You can’t go home.”

Dick flushed and Clark watched in dread, as something in Dick’s eyes seemed to close off as Clark watched him. 

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled

Lois blanched. “Fine?  _ Fine _ ? Dick, I love you to bits, but that is bull and you and I both know it.”

“Lo’” Clark said, not looking at her. He was looking at Dick’s chest and listening to his heart rate. It was beating much too quickly for Clark’s comfort. 

“You were shot four days ago. Or don’t you remember?” Lois had her hands on her hips, her knuckles white were she gripped her phone, email forgotten.

Dick turned a rather odd color as he started to sit forward. “No. I didn’t forget.” 

Clark rarely saw Dick so angry, it was something he reserved for criminals. Lois recoiled slightly. Clark shuffled forward uncomfortably. “Lois? I don’t think now's a good--”

“Well maybe you could act like it then!” Lois shouted, regaining her fervor. “You could have died and then what? What would that prove? That you’re the  _ best _ ? That you’re some great hero? Well news flash-- You’re 19 years ol--”

“Lois!” Clark shouted over her. 

Lois turned to snap at him but the words died on her tongue. Clark was looking at Dick. She too turned back to him and for the first time really looked at him. He was pale and a green hue. Sweat was pooling on his forehead and he looked as if he had shut down. Lois swore under her breath. 

“Dick, I-- That was really harsh of me--”

“I’m tired.” Dick said quietly. 

Lois shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously. “Well I’ll get you--”

“No. Just… Just go.” Dick wasn’t looking at her. 

Clark held his breath as Lois looked up at him and then back to Dick. 

After a few loaded seconds, she straightened. “Right. Right. I’ll just-- You get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She leaned forward to brush his hair but he sank back onto the pillows so that her hand just missed him. 

Clark waited until her heels could no longer be heard, before he spoke. “Dick, you know she didn’t mean it like that.” 

Dick shifted slightly but didn’t answer. 

“We  _ both  _ think you are amazing, she’s just-- She’s not used to this. I walk off bombs and shake off missiles. She just needs to adjust her understanding of how much danger you’re in.” Clark crossed the room and parted the curtains slightly. The sky was gray and dreary. He itched to blow the clouds back and let the sunshine. 

“I know.” Dick barely whispered. “I’m just-- I don’t know.”

“It’s a lot.” Clark agreed. “She’ll feel a lot better having you home.” 

He knew the second he turned around that it had been the wrong thing to say. Dick was rigid and the fire that Lois had been fanning, returned to his eyes. 

“I’m not going to Metropolis.” He spat through gritted teeth. 

Clark closed his eyes. He really wished he had allotted Bruce more understanding when he had shared his struggles with Dick over the years. Clark had always had the benefit of being able to walk away. Sure he would go to the ends of space and time for this kid, but staying all the time for  _ everything  _ was different. He missed when he could just pat Dick on on the head, give him advice and then be done. 

“Why?” Clark sank into the chair next to Dick’s bed. “I don’t understand. It will be a hundred times easier on everyone if you’re in Metropolis. I know I can fly, Dick, but Lois can’t. And I can’t be there all the time.”

Dick’s hands were fisted in the fabric of his bedding. “If I don’t go back now… I don’t know if I can. It’s be harder.”

Clark tilted his head, not comprehending the words. “What?”

“I… Staying is-- I’ve never stayed anywhere but Gotham and even then…”

Clark felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under him. 

“The Circus packed up and left. We always left. I just… If I don’t go back--” Dick’s jaw snapped shut. 

“We’ll make the commuting work.” 

Dick didn’t look up at him, but his grip eased. 

* * *

Clark sighed, giving up on the farce and went to the kitchen. He pulled a pitcher of orange juice out, that was likely put there by Lois for Dick rather than him, and poured a large glass. He shook his head several times, trying desperately to rid it of phantom mechanical tones and the echoes of flatlines. 

Dick was breathing, he was here. He was fine. He would be fine. If anything, it was everyone else who had fared poorly. Clark had never seen Lois so upset. He often returned home only to find her with a wet pillow, still crying in her sleep. 

He often found-- when he  _ could  _ sleep-- He dreamt of Dick screaming for him, but unable to move, unable to reach him. Clark wondered if Bruce had dreams like that. Perhaps he had had them for years. 

A harsh ring broke the quiet of the night, and Clark jumped. He found himself hovering near the upper cupboards when he realized it was his own phone making the sound. 

Quickly Clark leaned forward and forced his feet back to the floor. He snatched his phone up off the counter, and hit the accept button. 

He took a quick moment to look at Dick before, putting it to his ear. Clark looked through the walls and doors, at Dick’s sleeping form. His chest rose and fell steadily-- though perhaps not as evenly or painlessly as Clark would have liked. 

“Hello?” Clark asked slowly. 

“How is he?”

Clark swallowed. “It’s almost four in the morning, Bruce.”

“You were awake.” Bruce said automatically.

Clark snorted. “You didn’t  _ know  _ that.”

“Sure I did. I’m awake too.” 

The statement was so simple and so honest, that Clark forgot to breathe for a moment. 

“Clark?” Bruce asked after a long and heavy pause.

“Yeah.” Clark shook his head and turned his gaze back to Dick. “He’s good. Tired. Coming home really took it out of him, but he’s good.”

Bruce hummed. “He eating much?” 

Clark licked his lips. “Some. His appetite hasn’t been fully there. The painkillers make him--”

“--Nauseous. I told the nurses that they needed to switch them to a non cod--”

“Bruce--”

Bruce’s words came to a sudden halt. It was so fast Clark wondered if the man had hung up or been disconnected. He glanced at his phone to check. The call was still going. 

“He’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.” Bruce sounded muffled as if he were on speaker, and no longer near the microphone. 

“He seemed really happy when you came to the hospital.” Clark wasn’t sure happy was quite the word for it, perhaps it was more happy adjacent. 

“You don’t have to lie to me you know.” Bruce sounded so tired. Clark felt anger seep back into his veins. 

Bruce didn’t  _ get  _ to be tired. Bruce had messed up and Clark was the one here. Clark was the one holding Dick up in the shower, and helping him get dressed. Clark was the one holding his hand when he got ports cleaned and removed and heaven knows what else done. Clark was  _ here  _ in this hell hole of a city and Bruce was back in his fancy house. 

“You know what?” Clark spoke low into the phone. “I’m really sick of your pity party. I’ve tried over and over to play the middle man for you two. But you-- you…” Clark swore into the phone. 

Bruce was silent. 

Clark felt the anger still rising and so continued unabashed. “I have told him over and over that you still  _ wanted  _ him, but you know what? You’ve never chased him. You’ve been  _ dragged _ , guided and pulled by your teeth. 

“I know Jason made you come to the hospital and I don’t know if Alfred or guilt made you come back each time. But, you need to grow up.”

Clark wondered if Bruce was crying, his breathing sounded odd. He couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“You know what he said when he was dying? He was asking for you. The guy that found him. You know what he said? He said, Dick was calling out for a  _ Bruce  _ when they found him.”

An audible sob broke the silence over the other side of the line. 

“He thought you had come to save him. But-- you never earned...” Clark pinched his nose angrily and realized he was hovering again. 

“I’ve been trying…” Bruce’s voice was hardly there. Clark wondered if he’d spoken at all. 

Clark blinked and his feet brushed the floor again. “It’s not enough.”

“I know.” 

It took Clark a few minutes to realize that the line was dead. He lowered the phone slowly as if afraid it would break. Clark turned, and jumped for the second time that night when he saw Dick standing leaning heavily against the wall. 

“Dick!” Clark rushed forward and pulled all of Dick’s weight forward so that it rested on him. He was over to the couch in a second, neither of them touching the floor. “What are you doing up?”

Dick closed his eyes and leaned back into the sofa. “You were yelling.”

Clark blanched and knelt in front of Dick whipping hair back from his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Dick smiled up at him. “I wasn’t having a good dream anyway.”

Clark frowned but didn’t comment. 

“Who were you yelling at, anyway?” Dick let his eyelids close. “Sounded kinda tense.”

Clark leaned back on his heels and dropped his hands from Dick’s chest, where he had been folding a blanket over him. 

Dick’s eyes narrowed and he titled his head slightly, when Clark didn’t reply.

“It was Bruce.”

Dick didn’t so much as breathe. 

“He was just asking how you were doing.” Clark shifted over to the couch and scooted next to Dick. They both sat just looking at the wall. The paper was peeling slightly away from the plaster in places and bubbling up in others, Clark wondered if he could convince Dick to let him try and fix it. 

“He said he was sorry.” Dick said after a long time.

Clark felt hot all of a sudden. “He.. He-- What?”

Dick shifted uncomfortably. 

“At the hospital?” Clark twisted to face Dick, searching his eyes for an explanation. Why hadn’t Dick said anything?

“No. It was--” Dick leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “It was before that. Maybe a month or more ago. I don’t… I went to Gotham and…”

Clark felt as if the world were collapsing beneath him and as if all his dreams had come true at once. It was horrible and wonderful. It was magical and tragic. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clark thought the words would choke him, but they didn’t. 

Dick shrugged. “It was weird. It was everything I wanted him to say. I wanted it-- for a long time.”

“But it didn’t make you feel better.” Clark finished for him.

“Yeah. Like--” Dick shook his head, his eyes still pinched closed. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t have to go back. You don’t have to forgive him. But--” Clark found himself tearing in half. If he said it, it would mean  _ he  _ would have to do it too. Clark hadn’t realized until that moment that he was mad at Bruce too. But if Dick chose to forgive him, then that was that. Clark would have to too. “you don’t have to hate him either.”

Dick was quiet. So Clark went back to staring at the wall. 

“He might not have meant it.” Dick whispered. 

Clark licked his lips. 

“He might have.”

Dick snorted and leaned over so his head was on Clark’s shoulder. “Do you think I’m dumb for missing it?”

“No.” Clark spoke without hesitation. He had seen the duo together for years and often envied it. He had coveted the closeness, the partnership, but he hadn’t ever realized the hurt that came with it. He looked over at Dick and missed not knowing. He missed being able to sleep at night and not wonder if Dick had made it home. He missed it all being all on Bruce. 

Maybe that was why he was mad. Maybe it wasn’t that he was just mad at Bruce for leaving Dick, but he was mad for making it Clark’s responsibility, for opening his eyes to the weight of it all.

And now Clark was mad that he might have to let it all go again. For if Bruce was back in Dick’s life, what was he? Where did that leave him?

He bent his neck and let his face rest against the top of Dick’s head. 

Love was letting go sometimes, even when it hurt. 

“It’s not dumb to miss it at all.” Clark said gently.

“Doesn’t matter.” Dick said, pulling away. “It’s not like it meant anything. Bruce says a lot of things. Doesn’t mean he does anything about it.”

Clark sighed. “We can always hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look I'm sorry this ended kinda low. But Bruce steps it up, this is followed by chapter three of Irrefutable Truths and then Mona Lisa Smile. So we get happy again in those.


End file.
